If You Think Littering Is Wrong, You Clearly Don’t Drive a Geo Metro

By Darryl Gunch, Road-Based Environmental Visionary

Look, I know what you’re thinking: “That guy just threw a corn dog stick out of his window.” And to that I say, you’re welcome.

People act like littering is some kind of crime. But have you ever really stopped to think—maybe I’m not littering… maybe I’m just freeing objects from a toxic environment? Because let me tell you: my car is not a place for the weak. Or for banana peels.

Let me give you a quick tour of the Gunchmobile, and maybe you’ll start to see things from my side of the windshield.

Welcome Aboard My Personal Time Capsule

My car is a 1992 Geo Metro—the last real car built by man before Big Auto sold its soul to cupholders and Bluetooth. People laugh at it, but that’s just because they don’t understand beauty when it rattles past them at 37 miles per hour.

She’s got hand-cranked windows, a cassette deck that only plays side B of a Steve Winwood tape, and a hood that opens with a screwdriver I keep in the glove box. Not everyone can handle that kind of raw energy. Some say “junk.” I say “heritage.”

I’ve kept this car running through sheer willpower, zip ties, and a complex emotional relationship with the carburetor. The rear bumper is technically “suspended” rather than attached, and the driver’s side mirror is from a different car entirely. But it doesn’t matter—it’s my mirror now.

Inside, I maintain a strict zero-trash policy. No fast-food bags. No sticky cupholders. No rogue napkins. That’s why the trash goes out the window. I’m preserving the interior’s purity. I treat my Geo like a museum exhibit. You wouldn’t leave a burrito wrapper on the Mona Lisa, would you?

Strategic Disposal, Not Littering

Every item I toss is chosen with care. Used ketchup packets? Out. Empty gas station sushi tray? Out. Old gum that’s lost its flavor and maybe part of my dental filling? Out. I’m not just tossing trash—I’m redistributing it. Feeding raccoons. Providing conversation starters for joggers.

Plus, have you seen public trash cans lately? Germs. Judgmental signage. Sometimes they’re full. Sometimes they’re not even there. My window is always open. Efficient. Elegant. Eternal.

Haters Gonna Gawk

I know what the neighbors say. I’ve heard things like, “Why does he throw his mail out of the window?” or “That’s the third time he’s tossed an entire apple pie while driving.” But what they don’t understand is I’m operating on a higher frequency. I’m an environmental disruptor. A road-based installation artist.

Last week I gently released a VHS copy of Weekend at Bernie’s 2 into a parking lot. That’s not trash. That’s history.

A Word to the Critics

To the guy who keeps returning my discarded wrappers in a hand-woven basket: I appreciate the craftsmanship, but you’re missing the point. To the woman who followed me for three blocks yelling “USE A TRASH CAN”: please channel that energy into something useful, like writing poetry or protesting leaf blowers.

And to the officer who gave me a fine for “Improper Waste Disposal While in Motion,” I’d like to quote myself here: “If I wanted your opinion, I’d honk.”

Final Thoughts

I don’t litter. I curate. I cleanse. I purge my space of debris in real time, like a rolling Marie Kondo. And my Geo deserves that kind of respect. It’s a temple of economy, a shrine to compact engineering, and I will not sully her with sticky soda cups and glovebox garbage.

If that bothers you, maybe take a long hard look at your own dashboard full of empty coffee cups and shattered dreams.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to launch this half-eaten croissant into the ecosystem.